Grace Kelly
by lifeluver
Summary: Nobody questions Kurt Hummel's fashion sense. Especially not his boyfriend.


At its heart, New Directions was really some second-rate knock-off of the Breakfast Club (Kurt can say that because it comes from a place of caring) and as such each member could easily be defined by their most obvious attribute.

Finn was the jock, Artie was the brain (or neo-mazi zoom dweeb, if you'd rather), and Brittany was the basketcase. And Kurt was the celebrated style icon with a sense of fashion that was sophisticated far beyond his years.

Yes, he picked the labels.

The point is, no one questioned his fashion sense. It was an indelible part of him, as essential to his being as Rachel's obnoxious personality is to hers.

The last time Burt tried to bring up the option of wearing fewer bondage straps in his ensemble, he ate burnt tofu burgers for a week. The subject was quickly dropped.

When Finn suggested that orange and green do not a proper color palate make, certain choice pages from his favorite magazines ended up pasted to his window and Finn was grounded for a month.

So to reiterate: no one questioned Kurt Hummel's fashion sense.

_Especially_ not Kurt Hummel's boyfriend.

Xxx

"Welcome to your first day at the cesspool otherwise known as McKinley High," Kurt announced cheerfully as his boyfriend slid out of his car. "Allow me to be your guide through traitorous and unfamiliar waters."

"Thanks Kurt," Blaine said, smiling thinly. Ever since the common room at Dalton burnt down due to the unfortunate combination of creative lighting for an impromptu performance and Blaine's adorable if ill-advised penchant for table jumping, school had been a touchy subject between them. No one was seriously injured (except for Pavoratti's successor, Pavoratti Redux, whose frantic chirping is now said to haunt the hall) but parents complained and Blaine was politely asked to either conform to the new 'furniture is for sitting, not climbing' policy, or find another school to attend. Oddly, he chose the latter.

If Kurt hadn't already had quite enough dumpster-tossing and Prom-Queen electing experience to prove otherwise, he would have taken this to mean he really did possess Carrie-esque supernatural abilities. As is, he decided to take the contrivance at face-value and helped Blaine enroll right away.

"OK, you always want to enter school from the back entrance, as it avoids walking by the dumpsters. Of course, if they really want to get you, they'll find a way, which is why I've programmed Finn's number into your speed dial."

"Nothing so primitive ever would have happened at Dalton," Blaine muttered morosely under his breath.

"Yes, sweetie, but I think you'll find this school significantly less flammable and thus more suited to your needs."

Blaine shot him a dirty look, which Kurt promptly ignored as he steered him through the double doors and into the hallway.

"Now, let me see your schedule." When Blaine handed it over to him, Kurt adopted his best feign-shocked expression (practiced in the mirror, thank you very much).

"Look at that! Three classes together, what a coincidence."

"Seriously? How'd you do that?" Blaine looked suitably impressed at his boyfriend's skills.

"Nothing you need to worry about. We're at your first class, I'll see you in third period physics. Text if you need anything." Standing in the doorway, Blaine went in for a hug, then seemed to think better of it and instead opted for a jaunty wave.

It was awkward.

"Right, see ya," he muttered and ducked into his classroom. Kurt cringed as he watched him walk straight into Azimio's considerable bulk and prayed that Blaine will actually survive with all limbs in tact until third period.

This may have been a bad idea.

Xxx

"You're late."

"But the bell only rang three minutes ago."

The teacher stared incredulously at Blaine and students titter.

"At my old school you could show up to class up to ten minutes after the bell rang. They had to factor in the increased travel time caused by impromptu performances by the Warblers crowding up the hallways. And members of the group were allowed to—"

"That's enough. One detention for tardiness, and another for talking back. Now take your seat."

Blaine walked dejectedly to the third row and sat in the spot behind. "You're school is really anal about punctuality," he whispered.

"Word to the wise? You might want to avoid using words like 'anal' here."

"Anderson! No talking in class."

Xxx

And so it continued for the next few days. Blaine underwent varying levels of culture shock and Kurt tried extremely hard not to find it ridiculously amusing. In his defense, Blaine had made fun of him for weeks for asking where the teachers were at Dalton, so it's sort of like payback. (And honestly, that was a far more legitimate question than "Kurt, how come there are no couches in your study hall? What do we do if we need a mid-afternoon nap?")

Kurt kept an eye out for trouble, but things were going remarkably smoothly. Blaine's first glee club meeting was a success. Blaine led them in a rousing rendition of Last Friday Night which made up for the fact that he spent the rest of the hour in shell-shocked catatonia at their disorganized chaos. When Finn kicked a chair in anger, Blaine nearly cried.

The first slushying threatened to derail the carefully constructed balance of order, but Puck laughed heartily and deemed Blaine an official member of New Directions now, and Blaine smiled uncertainly in return and disaster was averted.

Coach Sylvester caught sight of Blaine once between classes and the blood vessel behind her eye threatened to burst, so as she stomped down the hallway, throwing students out of her way, Kurt took the opportunity to hurl Blaine into the girls bathroom. Once his boyfriend was out of the line of danger, he called for Mr. Schuester who came obligingly to see what was wrong and proceeded to take the brunt of Coach's hair-related fury. It was a close call, even if Blaine didn't know it.

All in all, Blaine's first week at McKinley had gone beautifully. Until, that is, Friday afternoon.

They were filing out of their physics class and Blaine was looking worriedly at the pop quiz they'd just been handed back while Kurt explained to him the hockey player's ritual of "Spirit Day."

"And that's why you avoid flagpoles today. Artie will show you his scars, if you ask."

"Mmhmm."

"Are you listening to me? This is valuable advice I'm giving you Blaine, not every new kid gets these insights and why are you staring at my crotch?"

"What? I'm not."

"Yes you were. You were admiring my pants, weren't you? They're from a new collection, I don't think they'd do much for your proportions, but if you'd like-"

"It's not that, Kurt. It's just. Do you really think that's appropriate attire for school?"

The floor shook. Lights flickered. The air in the hallway suddenly grew stale. Students shivered. In the choir room Mercedes ducked for cover. Burt called Carole and ordered her to purge the house of all tofu.

Or Kurt was pretty sure all that happened, anyway. He was too busy fighting back the all-encompassing rage to pay too much attention to his surroundings.

"Er, Kurt?" Blaine backed away slightly, most likely disturbed by the high quantity of steam blowing out of his boyfriend's ears.

"What. Did. You. Say." Kurt whispered, trying to keep his voice level. It would do no good to accidentally kill his first ever boyfriend in a fit of righteous fury, justified thought it may be.

"I mean, don't you think they're a little…much?"

Kurt took a deep breath and counts to ten. It did nothing to diffuse his anger.

"You know what? You're right. I should really tone it down during school hours." Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. "Before I forget, I think you need to see Coach Sylvester in her office, something about your P.E. credit being transferred from Dalton."

When he next saw Blaine he's stumbling into their fifth period math class, hair soaking wet and frizzing rapidly, resembling nothing more than a chia pet after being hit with a sledgehammer.

All in all, Kurt thought he exercised quite a bit of restraint, given the circumstances.

Xxx

It was two weeks before the subject is broached again, which, in Kurt's humble opinion, is about seven apocalypses too soon.

He was packing up his books after acing a Calculus test when he felt Blaine's eyes on him.

"Yes?" he said stiffly. He chose to ignore Blaine's earlier transgression, but he certainly had not forgiven. Mercedes once said he could hold a grudge until kingdom come; he had responded that she still owed him a new windshield.

"Those are. Bright pants."

"Yes they are," Kurt conceded. "I tailored them myself."

"Ah. Well. I was just thinking-"

"BLAINE!"

Mercedes skidded into the classroom, panting and holding her side. Kurt stared at her.

"Mr. Schue. Needs. See you. Now. Important."

"Oh, uh okay. I'll catch you later, okay Kurt?"

He headed out the door and Kurt folded his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow. "You okay there, 'Cedes?"

She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. "I swear to god, the sky turned _black_. Like that," she snapped her fingers to punctuate the point.

"Let's go shopping. I'm in need of something with feathers."

"Of course, baby."

Xxx

You would think that would be the end of it. That Blaine would have learned his lesson, or at the very least bought a clue.

You do not know Blaine Anderson, who is eternally in a clue deficit.

Kurt was walking to his French class, rereading his notes before the midterm, when Blaine dashed up to him, the front of his jeans soaked in purple slushie which made for a rather unfortunately colored stain.

"Kurt! Karofsky got me."

"Not the best choice of words, but I can see that."

"They're completely ruined. Can I borrow your pants?"

Kurt stared.

"You know I would love to help you out here, Blaine, but if I give you my pants then _I _would be wearing the stained ones, and I can't rock that look."

"No, it's okay, you can wear these." Blaine thrust a pair of McKinley sweat pants in his arms.

Kurt tried to think if Blaine was exhibiting any outward signs of a stroke. "Uh, sweetie, why don't you wear the sweat pants. Problem solved."

Clearly Blaine had not thought of that. "They're…too long on me. Yeah. Look, just put them on, okay?"

"Oh my God, you're trying to force me to change clothes, aren't you?"

"What? No!" Blaine's voice reached that pitch it did when he was lying his ass off and Kurt threw the pants in his boyfriend's face.

"You are! Honestly, I can take this from the Neanderthals I deign to call my classmates, I can take it from the homophobes who populate this backward town, but from you? Do you see me questioning your fashion choices?"

"You did try to draw up that outfit schedule once…"

"That's because you were wearing capris, Blaine! You know what, you've taken this too far. Prepare for my wrath, Anderson."

Kurt stomped off in the direction of their French class, leaving Blaine standing in the hallway in stained pants.

"Never wake the sleeping beast," Puck advised wisely from behind him.

"And for the record?' Kurt screamed from halfway down the hallway. "Polka dots look good on _no one_!"

Blaine gasped, scandalized.

Xxx

They didn't speak for the rest of the school day. Blaine followed Kurt around like a kicked puppy, but every time he opened his mouth Kurt shot him a look that chilled him to his bones and he suddenly became otherwise occupied.

When he arrived in the choir room Kurt took a seat between Mercedes and Finn and pointedly looked everywhere but at his boyfriend. Blaine sighed and sat down on the edge of the row. Everyone scooted their chairs a few inches away from him.

"Is that really necessary?" Blaine asked Artie grumpily.

"Don't talk to me. I'm _so_ not getting in the middle of this again."

"Again?"

"Last year Sam asked Kurt whether he was dressed like Uncle Scrooge for a school project. I made the mistake of copying Sam's homework that same day. My wheelchair would only move in circles for a week."

"Artie!" Kurt said sharply.

"I don't know, he just started talking to me! I love your scarf, by the way."

Kurt appeared appeased.

"All right guys, who wants to get us started today?"

"Mr. Schue, if I may?" Mr. Schuester nodded and took Kurt's seat.

"Today I would like to sing a song by my personal icon. I've refrained from using this artist as inspiration for two years out of hope that Mr. Schuester might come to the conclusion himself and give me a competition solo that could highlight my abilities, but clearly that is not going to happen." He shot his teacher a dark look; for his part Schue just looked confused.

"This is a song about maintaining your identity when everyone around you is telling you who to be. I would like to dedicate it to my boyfriend, whose oppressive attitude towards my mode of self-expression has once again reared it's ugly head."

Blaine did not like where this was going.

"Brad?"

The opening notes were played, and yeah, Blaine really, really did not like where this was going.

_Do I attract you, do I repulse you _

_With my queasy smile?_

_ Am I too dirty, am I too flirty_

_ Do I like what you like?_

_I could be wholesome_

_ I could be loathsome_

_ I guess I'm a little bit shy_

_ Why don't you like me, why don't you like me_

_ Without making me try_

Santana was smirking at him evilly, and Blaine had always laughed when Kurt referred to her as Satan but he's starting to realize it wasn't a joke.

_ I try to be like Grace Kelly_

_ But all her looks were too sad_

_ So I tried a little Freddie_

_ I've gone identity mad_

Tina, Mercedes and Brittany jump in on the chorus, and Blaine wondered when on earth they had time to rehearse this.

_I could be brown_

_ I could be blue_

_ I could be violet sky_

_ I could be hurtful _

_ I could be purple_

_ I could be anything you like_

_Gotta be green_

_ Gotta be mean_

_ Gotta be everything more_

_ Why don't you like me, why don't you like me _

_ Without making me try_

Kurt finished the song with a flourish and glared at Blaine.

"Nice job, Kurt, do you mind me asking what that song was about?"

"That song was about Blaine's need to stifle my creative energy because he's too insecure to be seen with the only person in this town willing to take bold risks with their fashion choices," Kurt answered primly, with a cold smile in Blaine's direction.

"Oh my god, it's because you have a fantastic ass!"

Everyone turned to stare at Blaine, who blushed scarlet under the attention.

Kurt voiced everyone's thoughts. "Uh, what?"

Blaine shifted uncomfortably, but answered, "I sit behind you in three classes, Kurt, and you wear those skin-tight pants, every freaking day. I can't think about anything else, I can't focus on what the teacher's saying, because I can't take my eyes off your damn ass!"

Puck whistled. Finn looked like was struggling between being grossed out and defending his brother's honor. Santana craned her neck to try and get a look at Kurt's ass. Kurt just felt dumbstruck. So _not_ what he was expecting out of this performance.

"I'm failing French. I'm _fluent _in French. I got a thirty eight on our calculus exam. Do you know how I got those thirty eight points? Because I doodled pictures of your ass and the teacher thought they were my attempts at graphing."

"Oh, um. Okay then."

Really, Kurt felt guilty. He did. He felt bad for humiliating Blaine in front of the entire glee club. And he felt bad that he unintentionally had been distracting his boyfriend from his studies for weeks.

But mostly he was really freaking curious to see what his derriere looked like in these jeans. Seriously, his ass had hypnotizing powers, and he hadn't even _known_ about it? He could only imagine what havoc he could wreak now that he possessed this knowledge.

Yeah, though. He felt bad.

"Um, maybe you boys could finish this conversation at another time?" Mr. Schue said hesitantly, his face pale.

"Sure!" Kurt chirped cheerfully, all the bitterness of five minutes ago gone as he sat back down.

"It is a nice ass," Santana said appreciatively. Kurt positively _beamed_.

Blaine scowled.

Xxx

"So." Kurt said after everyone had left the choir room for the day (Brittany had slapped him on the butt as she left, and declared it magical. Even Puck glanced, and was quickly punched in the shoulder by Finn, which gave Rachel the opportunity to stare openly.)

"So," Blaine said, carefully observing his hands.

"Cargo pants are making a comeback, you know."

"Really?" God, he looked so hopeful, Kurt didn't have the heart to tell him that no, not really, not _ever_.

"Sure. I suppose I could wear _slightly _looser pants. On test days."

"That would be much appreciated."

"And we can switch seats, so I'm sitting behind you instead. I'm pretty sure the teachers just mark us as Gay Boy #1 and #2 anyway, so they won't notice the difference."

"Oh thank God. I was seriously worried I was going to fail and be held back. Can you imagine if I was a senior _again_ next year?"

Kurt shuddered at the thought.

"Oh, and Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"On dates, feel free to wear pants as tight as you want."

Kurt smiled seductively. "Oh, I plan to."

Blaine slipped his hand into the back pocket of his boyfriend's obscenely tight jeans and walked out the door with him, blissfully oblivious to the fact that the power balance in their relationship had just shifted dramatically in Kurt's direction.


End file.
